


Thought I'd Let You Know

by WarpSpeed



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anti stydia, Character Death, M/M, Mentions of past suicidal Stiles, Phone Calls, Pining Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, ambiguous timeline, but he is so wrong, first fic??, he does a very idiotic, i cant tag, martyr thing and :(, prompt, sorry if this sucks yikes, stiles feels like no one cares about him, stiles rambling, stiles wyd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 15:47:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11489586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarpSpeed/pseuds/WarpSpeed
Summary: Based off the prompt "Person B knowing they're undoubtedly about to die in the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they're bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they call Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong."From otpdisater on tumblr. (I saw it on Pinterest)





	Thought I'd Let You Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhyDoIShipDrarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyDoIShipDrarry/gifts).



> Hello!! This is the first fic I've ever posted on here, but I started it a year ago. I do not own teen wolf, nor do I own any of the characters. 
> 
> Any mistakes are my own. (I finished this at 5 AM)
> 
> Dedicated to my angst loving bestie.
> 
>  
> 
> *I can barely handle reading angst let alone writing it so if this sucks, I apologize.

He wishes he'd just die already. 

The pain in his gut is so overwhelming, Stiles can't even begin to think of any words to describe it. Awful, cruel, horrible, atrocious, gruesome, mind bogglingly terrible. No, they won't do. 

Those words only describe the first five minutes of being left alone to bleed to slow, painful death, the blade ripped out of its wound and taken by his assailants —soon to be murderers, Stiles thinks crazily. 

First comes the nausea; he's on the ground—adrenaline and shock muting the actual pain in his abdomen for now—the world just fucking spinning. Spinning and spinning with absolutely no intention of stopping. He can't breathe, the thought of never seeing his dad again, never seeing Scott again, never seeing Derek again suffocating him. 

Then comes crushing acceptance; Stiles faintly thinks he might've skipped a few stages of grief. He would never, ever see any of his friends, his pack, again. Stiles admits, while lying in the fetal position in a puddle of his own blood—still trying not to throw up (he'd always been squeamish when it came to blood and gore)— he was finally beginning to feel like he belonged at the pack meetings, belonged in his seat on the arm of Derek's couch. 

Why did his life have to be ripped away from him when it was just starting to become comfortable? 

Stiles hates himself for even letting himself think about letting the people he loved go.

Shouldn't he be trying to stay alive to see them again instead of letting his inevitable death consume him? 

He's always seen the heroes from comics and movies pushing themselves beyond human limits to continue saving people or to get back to their family.  
He doesn't have anything to actually push himself out from under, no people to aim his (currently surprisingly dormant) anger at and kill to get home. 

No, of course Stiles wouldn't get the luxury of an easy inspiration for survival. All Stiles was left with is a gaping wound in his gut and his own faulty mind. 

A very distant whiney voice screams, "BUT WHAT ABOUT THE PACK? WHAT ABOUT DAD?" But Stiles is mature now. The reason he's in this mess is because he'd started to listen to that voice and thought he belonged somewhere.

He ended up getting his dad almost killed like 3 times; he knows John would be safer without Stiles in his life. Stiles knows that he was useless to the pack anyway, so the obvious reasons to hang on to his life are out. Scott's grades had risen drastically in the last year, he doesn't need Stiles anymore, especially now that Isaac I'll-Steal-Your-Bestie-And-Make-Him-Forget-You Lahey exists. He'd realized his feelings for Lydia were not feelings for Lydia as a person, more for the thought of her. She'd helped him realize she didn't care about him by finally snapping at him in front of everyone during a pack meeting and crushing his pathetic heart. 

 

Then the tune of the 1960s' The Batman tv show bursts from Stiles' phone 10 feet away and penetrates the copper-thick air of the building he was left to die in. 

 

His blood deprived brain recognizes that his soon to be killers knocked his phone out of his pocket, when he thought it would be smart to try and defend himself without strength or knowledge of how to actually fight, and it was now rattling and spurting music. 

And that left Derek. Oh, Derek. If Stiles had enough energy he would laugh his ass off at the poetic irony.

In the last couple months, all the pushing-against-walls, judging stares, misguided protectiveness, and bickering had finally gotten to him. Well, first his dick. And then his heart. 

For months, Derek was the first and last thing on Stiles' brain when when he awoke and fell asleep, the most common character in his dreams. Stiles pined so deeply for Derek even Stiles would've been weirded out at himself if he weren't so intensely detatched from reality.

Anyway, his last option for a hero reason to tell Death to stick it where the sun don't shine was Derek Hale. Even in Stiles' woe-is-me, disconnected haze he can't seem to make himself push Derek away. 

Why the fuck not? So what if he uses his final breaths to talk to the last person on earth who would reciprocate his feelings (even behind Lydia), who’s going to judge him? Well maybe himself, but honestly, Stiles just wants to hear Derek's voice again.

The shock had slowly been waning away while Stiles had been inside his head and now the bone-deep throbbing of his open abdomen really fucking hurt. Sparks of panic are shooting through him at warp speed (punch it, Sulu!) and hearing Derek's voice before he kicks the bucket has been suddenly thrusted to Top Priority.

Just as he starts to force himself to crawl to his phone, even though the pain is making his vision white out, the music and vibrations cease their possession of the phone, now silent and unmoving on the concrete. 

Fuck.

Realizing he's fulfilling the ridiculous hero defying death trope, he decides the inevitable comfort when he will hear Derek talk is worth his own judgement. 

After what feels like skinning himself and then running pitchfork prongs down his tendons and muscles, Stiles reaches his phone and calls Derek back, out of breath, shaking and dizzy. 

On the 4th ring, his stomach (if it's even still inside him anymore) drops and tears cling to his eyes. 

On the 6th ring, Derek picks up, causing Stiles to gasp and try and hide his obvious heavy breaths. Will Derek be able to hear his sluggish hear beat? Wait is his heart still beating? Is he even still alive? This close-to-death confusion shit is bullshit.

"Stiles."

Oh god. Oh god. 

"Hey Derek! Sorry I didn't pick up when you called....I was in the bathroom." He doesn't remember making a pact with himself to lie to Derek, but he might be more caring now than he's ever been in his entire life. Since when does Derek need another death in his life? Another time when he needs to endanger himself for Stiles' skinny ass when he can just let Derek be oblivious and deal with it later (when Stiles doesn't have to see the disappointment and worry on his face)?

"Anyway, we're having a pack movie night at my place...thought I'd let you know."

The elbow he's propped up on almost slips out from under him on his own blood.

"Oh okay! I was wondering when the next one would be. Especially after you enjoyed Twilight so much." Derek grunts, a flimsy attempt at showing his contempt towards the series. Stiles forces an awkward laugh, making his head spin with the depressing amount of effort it takes him. 

Stiles can't believe he'll never get to see Derek again. He won't be able to see his beautiful kaleidoscopic green eyes, his dark hair and beard, his warm hands, his jaw sharp enough to cut open Stiles' torso just like the hunting knife used earlier, Stiles reminisces bitterly. 

He won't ever get to hold Derek's intense gaze again. Why is his face wet?

His arms are shaking and he almost drops his phone. "Shit!" 

"Stiles, are you okay?"

Fuck there's the concerned alpha voice again. He's so happy he gets to hear it again, one last time.

"Yeah of course, I'm totally fine, just almost dropped my phone. What time should I come over at?"

He has to breathe through his mouth now, his vision is fading and his nose stopped up with snot from the tears. He can't feel his legs anymore, and his chest is barely moving as he tries to breathe through the pain.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about something so maybe we could meet earlier at my place, so around 30 minutes from now?" 

Stiles has to fight back a sob and a whimper because, fuck, he'd wanted more time for Derek to be safe from stress and more death in his life. Now he only has 30 minutes to be blissfully ignorant. And since when is the evening so near? He must have been slowly bleeding out for over an hour. He guesses his younger days of being suicidal resurfaced in his will to not affect anyone by calling. 

In the back of his groggy mind, Stiles needs to let Derek know how he feels before he goes. If he can't be there to hear what Derek wants to discuss, no doubt about Werewolf Business, he has to let him know now. Somewhere in his mind that makes sense. 

"You can always talk to me about anything, Derek. I'll always be here for you," his voice is slurring all throughout his response, and he takes a deep breath in and hears something rattle in his body. 

Derek's suspicious voice interrupts his body trying to let Stiles know this is pointless and he should just die already, "What's going on Stiles? What's wrong?"

He has to protect Derek. Derek deserved much, much better than he was given in Stiles' lifetime. "Everything's fine, big guy. You just deserve to know you're a great person. I'll see you in half an hour." He can't hold his phone anymore, he's too weak to grip anything and it clatters to the ground.

Stiles' life drains away as he looks forward to meeting his mom, asking her how she's been, if she's seen his life, if she'd ever seen Derek. He passes holding on to the way his name sounded on Derek's tongue.


End file.
